Hope and Memory
by MeriadocTook
Summary: A short story about Frodo and Bilbo's life in Valinor, including the reuniting of two much-loved characters. Written for extreme procrastination, but all the same: I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to review! Namárië.
1. Chapter 1

Frodo held Bilbo's hand, gently singing so as to lull the old Hobbit to sleep.

"_…pursuing it with eager feet, _

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errand meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._"

A weariness had suddenly come over him, too, and he attempted to suppress a yawn. His tired eyes glanced once more over the now sleeping Bilbo. He smiled faintly.

Although he had aged considerably since his departure to Rivendell so many years ago, since Bilbo's arrival in Valinor, he could easily have been mistaken for a much younger Hobbit.

Frodo released his hand, ready to depart to his own chambers for the night, yet with a start Bilbo sprang out of his bed, frightening Frodo beyond comprehension.

"What is it?" the startled Hobbit cried. Bilbo's face was morose.

"Oin, Gloin, Ori, Nori, Dori, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Fili, Kili, and Thorin…" he muttered almost incomprehensibly.

"What about them?"

"I can't remember – that is, I don't know…" Bilbo sank back upon the bed where he had been peacefully thinking only moments before.

Frodo sighed. These fits of forgetfulness had become more and more frequent. Despite Bilbo's new exterior youthfulness, his mind continued to age.

"Oh Frodo, my lad," Bilbo said quietly, his face scrunching up as though he was on the verge of tears. "I can't remember the year when I found the…" his voice trailed off, remembering who he was seated with. Though Frodo knew well enough what he was going to say.

"The year you found the ring." He finished for him, wistfully. Bilbo nodded.

"If I still had my book -"

"Sam has the book now." Frodo interrupted. Bilbo nodded, understanding the importance that Sam had in Frodo's heart.

"If I could just remember the date…"

Frodo smiled. "Think hard, but not too hard, for you have not eaten enough today to think so deeply."

Bilbo laughed as Frodo kissed him goodnight, remembering the simple and contented life of a Hobbit in the Shire.

Frodo left Bilbo now, walking slowly towards his room. Their house replicated Bag End almost to the spiders-web in the corner. Since his arrival, he tried to make it as homely as possible, to remember his old life, and yet still know that when he stepped out his front door and looked upon a land a world away from the Shire, he could not go back. Life in Valinor….he halted his thoughts. There was no life in Valinor. That is, he was alive, and always would be in this magical land. And yet to him, life had meant the simple struggles of finding food to eat, needing to stock up when the Winter was coming, and running through Farmer Maggot's crop looking for mushrooms. In the Undying Lands, all things grew in abundance, so no hardship would ever have to be endured by the people so long as Manwë ruled the lands.

Frodo took a deep breath in, resolved to no longer think of such things.

Yet dreams troubled the young Hobbit's sleep, waking him many times from his slumber. The Eye of Sauron would flicker in and out of peaceful thoughts, and once again he would feel the icy burning of the scar on his shoulder. More than once he woke calling for aid, and yet his cries for Sam or Strider always came unanswered.

Frodo slumped back upon his sheets, rubbing his tired eyes.

"You may go and see Gandalf tomorrow to lift your spirits. But for now, you must sleep, Frodo Baggins!" He chastised himself, and yet his next thought made him grin. "What would Sam say if he knew his Master was not sleeping?"


	2. Chapter 2

Frodo no longer wondered at why when he needed Gandalf the most he would make himself appear, even when Frodo had not outwardly expressed it.

Frodo smile could not be larger as he watched Gandalf and Bilbo embrace, before agreeing to share some pipe weed on a hill nearby. Gandalf turned to Frodo, ducking to avoid the low beams of the hobbit-hole.

"You are well?" Gandalf asked Frodo, smiling with content as Frodo nodded his reply. Bilbo had hurried off to find his finest weed.

"This certainly is a lot smaller than the real Bag End." Gandalf commented. Frodo laughed.

"Only marginally, Gandalf! Besides, it's enough for old Bilbo and me." Gandalf said nothing.

"You have heard the latest news from the Shire?" he asked. Frodo's eyes widened.

"N-no, how could I? Please, Gandalf, tell me everything!" Gandalf agreed to, and sat himself down at the small table. There was something in Frodo's eagerness causing him to think he even detected a bit of homesickness in Frodo's tone.

"Well, I believe Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took have travelled once more to Gondor."

Frodo smiled.

"Goodness," he remarked. "And at there age! Merry must be, what, 102 by now, surely?"

"Almost to the day," Gandalf murmured. He was sure he detected homesickness now. "Never to return, I believe."

"Never to return." Frodo echoed, his smile dimming only slightly. "Please tell me about Sam, dear Gandalf." Frodo said quietly.

At that moment, Bilbo came bustling back into the room, beaming with pride for the long pipes and multitude of weed he cradled in his arms.

"There's plenty for all of us. I always make sure there's enough to please 12 dwarves!" he laughed, and Gandalf did so also. Yet Frodo watched Gandalf unhappily, still waiting for an answer to his request.

"It was so long ago, your adventure." Gandalf smiled, following Bilbo out the front door towards the hill. Frodo followed closely behind.

"It was, too." Bilbo reminisced. He giggled. "Imagine me, a shy Hobbit going all the way to Eregor." Gandalf ceased smiling.

"Erebor, my dear fellow." He corrected him. Bilbo's eyes reflected his immediate frustration, though tears soon muted this irritation, and a great sadness came in its place.

"I hardly remember any names anymore." His voice was very quiet, causing Frodo and Gandalf to have to lean in to hear him. "I need my book."

Frodo sighed, wondering how he would ever get poor Bilbo to understand.

"But it's with -"

"Sam, I know." Bilbo sighed also. "I'm sorry, Frodo, my dear." He patted Frodo's knee, who had just sat down next to him. Gandalf sat on Frodo's other side.

"Ahh, Samwise." Gandalf chuckled. Frodo looked at him expectantly.

"You never told me how Sam was doing." Frodo reminded him.

"Sam…" Gandalf paused, seemingly struggling to find the correct words. "Sam has gone on a journey." He said, nodding as though contented with the words he eventually found.

"For long?" Frodo asked, his voice strained with worry. "Poor Sam must be quite old by now, surely he shouldn't be travelling, now -"

"Hush, my dear boy!" Gandalf's eyes danced with amusement. "Gwaihir tells me all of the goings in Middle Earth, and believe me, I have not heard a thing about a Hobbit in danger. Sam is fine, I am sure."

Frodo nodded.

"Of course he's fine." He whispered to himself. "Though I wish…" Gandalf was already deep in conversation with Bilbo, reminding him that the battle with the Dragon occurred in the year 2941, and not 2951.

"Though I wish I could see him once more."


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo piled another blanket onto the cart.

"Don't you take him too far, Gandalf!" he snapped. "I want him back for supper tomorrow night!"

Gandalf chuckled.

"So you have told me, on one occasion too many, I should think." Bilbo smiled awkwardly, slightly embarrassed.

"I am sorry. Though you know how excited I am, also." He said. "I wish I could go with you. But I understand, there is no room -"

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf boomed. "Stop your incessant complaining! Frodo will be back by supper _tonight_, if you should wish! One day, surely, you can survive on your own."

Bilbo, although initially frightened, began to laugh.

"Of course, Gandalf. I will see you soon. And don't worry, I remember: not a word to Frodo!"

As soon as his name was spoken, Frodo appeared in the door of Bag End, his old-Elven cloak wrapped around his shoulders, still clasped together with the Elven broach as it once was.

"I wish you would tell me where we are going." He said quietly, almost unhappily.

"Just for a small trip." Gandalf replied, trying to make his reply as short as possible, and yet be adequate enough to silence the young, inquisitive Hobbit.

"Like Sam." Frodo thought allowed. "Although he went on a long trip, by the sounds of it." Frodo said, although his statement was more of a question. Despite this, he received no reply.

"Come on Frodo, we must go now, or I will not get you back for supper, and will have to contend with Bilbo, here."

Bilbo laughed again.

"Goodbye, lad." He said, kissing the top of Frodo's head. He waved to Gandalf, who waved back, before shaking the reigns, encouraging the two horses to drag their passengers away.

Bilbo watched pensively as Frodo and Gandalf disappeared over a hill and out of his sight.

"Poor Bilbo's memory is getting dreadfully worse." Frodo said, trying to make conversation. Hours had passed with little words spoken between the Wizard and the Hobbit, and Frodo had begun to feel almost uncomfortable.

"Mm." Gandalf replied. Frodo wriggled awkwardly in his seat.

"I really wish you would tell me where we're going."

Gandalf sighed.

"We're nearly there, anyway." He murmured, as the cart veered off the road and towards the sea in the distance.

"We're going to the sea?" Frodo asked, already aware of the obviousness of his question.

A ship sat idly in the harbour, gently bobbing up and down from the small waves. It was not a large ship, indeed, one may even have considered it a boat, if not for the large masts which had carried it across Belegaer.

In the distance, a small figure sat on the sand. From a distance it could have been mistaken for a gull. Whatever it was, it was clear that it was lost.

The cart slowed to a halt on the grassy mounds before the sand. Gandalf helped Frodo to lower himself out of it. Frodo squinted to get a better look at the gull, or whatever it was, which had seemingly just seen him, also.

"What…who…"

A wave of recognition passed over Frodo. He knew who it was before him.

He breathed slowly. He felt as though all his movements were now mechanic, and if he didn't remember to breath, he would stop altogether. Tears welled up in his eyes, and it wasn't long before they were fighting to escape his eyes the fastest, streaming down his soft, youthful cheeks. The overwhelming joy made his heart long to break free of his chest and take flight over the lands. Although momentarily he felt as though he was riveted to the spot, he soon found himself running towards the object coming closer and closer towards him. He stopped, barely inches from the object. He clenched his eyes shut, both in disbelief, and in concern that if he were to open them it would all fade into a dream. Three words were enough to convince him of reality.

"Hello, Mr. Frodo."


End file.
